Maybe Words Can Hurt You
by KkarmaCchameleon
Summary: A few times when Lily heard the word Mudblood.


The first time she heard the word was the week before the Christmas holiday her first year at Hogwarts.

She was on her way from the Great Hall to the Gryffindor Common Room, lip quivering while she tried not to cry. She'd just received a letter from her parents explaining that while they would _love_ to have her home for Christmas, Petunia was throwing a fit at the idea, screaming that they loved Lily more, and being overall difficult about the entire situation. She'd gone so far as to say she would make _certain _that if she _did_ return home, she would make sure she felt unwelcome. Not wanting to see their daughters fight, they decided that it would be for the best if Lily stayed at Hogwarts while they tried to reason with the elder.

Lily understood. She really did. Petunia wanted—no, needed—a little extra attention. She always had. Probably always would. Still, she'd be lying if she said she didn't miss her family. She'd never been away from them for so long, and she was just the tiniest bit homesick. Hogwarts had a lot to offer, and it was quickly becoming her home, but she wanted to see her parents.

Eyes fixed on her feet, she nearly ran into someone. "Watch where you're going!" a harsh voice snapped. She glanced up to see an older student—a Slytherin, more than likely—towering above her. He took in her appearance quickly before sneering, "What's the little Mudblood crying about?" He laughed before brushing past her.

That night, she asked Mary what a Mudblood was. And then she really did cry.

* * *

After that first incident, she became more aware of the word when it was said. Other students—Slytherins, naturally—would whisper it to each other when she passed by. She heard Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws getting the world hurled at them as well. It was becoming an almost weekly occurrence. It hadn't been said directly to her since she first heard it, but it still stung to hear it said at all. What made her any less of a witch than these people? She was one of the best in their year. She was good at magic!

But that didn't matter in their eyes. To them, she was just another Muggle. She didn't belong there. She was scum. And despite what her friends told her, every time she caught one of the haughty Purebloods looking down on her, she felt so small and unworthy.

* * *

The next time the word was directed to her was on the Hogwarts Express at the beginning of her second year. She was so happy to be headed back to the castle. She'd had a lovely stay at home—minus all of Petunia's snide comments—but she was coming to realize that she could belong more than one place. She and Severus were the only two in a compartment, both barely able to contain their excitement over the start of the school year.

A boy she vaguely recognized—oh, what was his name?—poked his head in. He looked like he was about to say something to Snape, but then his expression turned sour. "Welcome back, Mudblood."

From the hall came an affronted gasp. "Don't call her that!"

Lily sighed, recognizing it as the voice of none other than...

"Potter," her greasy-hair friend growled.

"What? Mudblood?" he replied coolly to the newcomer, clearly enjoying seeing James getting worked up.

James raised his wand, but someone grabbed his arm. "Don't. He's not worth it." That was definitely Remus, the only voice of reason in that bunch. Not that James could've done much damage; he was only twelve, after all.

Thankfully, the visitor stalked off, apparently bored with the situation. "Potter thinks he's so cool," Severus grumbled. "Trying to swoop in and be the hero."

"At least he defended me," Lily mumbled, more to herself than in response.

"Hey! You know I couldn't! Mulciber and them...they already mock me enough for hanging out with a M— for hanging out with _you._ I can't make it much worse."

She shrugged and fixed her gaze out the window, and though they hardly said another word to each other the entire ride, she was determined not to let it dampen her spirits.

* * *

It seemed that that day on the train had sparked a movement amongst many Slytherins. During her second year, she was called a Mudblood no fewer than seventy times. Funny thing was, it was _always_ when she was with Severus. It was never while she was alone, or with other Gryffindors, or with friends from other houses, or sitting in class. Every. Single. Time. Surely something had to be going on.

She finally asked him in February. "_Why?_" she inquired. "I mean, I get it if they want to call me that. It's whatever." Nothing about her face betrayed that it _wasn't_ whatever, that it really did bother her. "But why is it only when I'm around you?"

He hung his head and mumbled something she couldn't understand.

"Sorry, didn't catch that."

With a sigh, he spoke with clarity this time. "They're trying to get me to say it. They think I need to pick a side, either with the...people like you, or with the people like them."

"Well, why can't you pick a side?" she asked, genuinely confused.

"I can't pick your side because they'd hex me. I can't pick their side because of you." He meant it to sound sweet, but one look at her told him it came across as anything but.

Another thing that typically accompanied the use of the word was the arrival of James Potter. At least half the time, he rushed to her defense, either by telling them off, threatening them, or saying things like, _"You're just jealous!"_ In a way, it was kind of sweet.

* * *

Third year was the first time someone got hurt over the word.

It happened during Potions in mid-April. Lily answered a question correctly, as usual; Slughorn commended her, also as usual. From behind her, Avery whispered, "Pretty good for a Mudblood."

"Don't you _dare_ call her that!" James exclaimed, turning around to glare. Slughorn, who hadn't heard Avery's comment, eyed the messy-haired boy with curiosity.

"Or what?" he challenged.

James merely cocked an eyebrow. At fourteen—and just barely fourteen, at that—he'd already started to build up a bit of a reputation for being slightly hex-happy.

But it wasn't a duel that started. No. It was a few minutes later, when they were supposed to be working. Lily wasn't paying much attention to what was happening around her until she heard a pained yelp. She looked up to see James clutching his left arm, where a purple-tinged burn was forming. From what Sirius angrily told Professor Slughorn, Avery had walked by and casually slipped something extra in the cauldron.

Lily looked on with mild concern and a slight tinge of guilt... He'd gotten hurt for sticking up for her.

* * *

By fourth year, getting called a Mudblood happened so frequently that Lily brushed it off. Sometimes, she even threw a smile their way when someone said it to her.

That doesn't mean it didn't get to her.

Few people saw how, when she didn't think anyone was watching, her shoulders slumped just a little. How she seemed to cave in on herself. How her smile just wasn't as bright as it should have been.

James noticed.

Lily might have appreciated his attempts at cheering her up a little more if he hadn't made his catchphrase something along the lines of _"Go out with me, Evans?"_

* * *

And then it happened.

Everyone else knew it was inevitable. Lily hadn't seen it coming at all, was dumbfounded when Severus, who was supposed to be her best friend, said the words, _"I don't need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her!"_

That was the second time she cried over the use of the word.

And of course, it had to be _Potter_ that found her beneath a tree a few minutes later, wiping tears off her face. "You okay, Evans?" he asked quietly.

"Of course!" she said, her voice taking on that high-pitched note of the truly upset.

He sat across from her. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"What do _you_ have to be sorry for?" she muttered, not looking up.

"For being arrogant. For pushing Sniv—_Snape_ to the point that he would call you that. For the fact that you have to put up with all of those Slytherin prats, calling you a you-know-what, when you're ten times the witch any of them will ever be." He could feel his cheeks flushing.

"Thanks," she mumbled softly.

"I mean it. You're brilliant, and you're kind, and you're drop dead _gorgeous,_ and Merlin, Lily..." He ran a hand through his hair, not trying to mess it up like earlier, more of an unconscious action, a reflex when he couldn't think of how to end the sentence.

Lucky for him, he didn't have to. She'd finally taken her eyes off the grass and saw his face. "Oh, James...you're bleeding." She dug for her wand. "Hold still." She held his face gently in one cool hand, while tracing her wand over the gash Snape had left, murmuring the incantation under her breath. After a moment, she let go and surveyed her work. Pleased, she declared, "Good as new!" Then she asked, "What are you smiling about?"

"You called me James!"

And from then on, the pair started to become friends.

Unbeknownst to Lily, that was the moment that James vowed to make sure that _nobody_ ever called her a Mudblood again.

* * *

She noticed that something was up about halfway through sixth year.

Outside of Hogwarts, the war was escalating. People were dying daily at the hands of wizards who hated Lily and _her kind._ So why had no one called her a Mudblood all year?

It wasn't that she missed it. It just made her feel uneasy, like they were plotting something. Not that she was paranoid. It just didn't seem _right._

She and James had gotten close fairly quickly, and they were together constantly. She'd even finally agreed to go to Hogsmeade with him—as friends. But she had to admit that she was getting to be pretty fond of the boy. When he wasn't in front of the Marauders, who she'd also begun to get to to know better lately, he wasn't as hard to deal with.

And he had a nice smile.

Not that she spent a lot of time thinking about that.

Not too much time, anyway.

* * *

Halloween their seventh year was when she found out.

She and James were supposed to study together before the Halloween feast—oh, who was she kidding at this point? It was practically a date. And she was perfectly okay with that.

Except he didn't show up.

That was a little disheartening.

When she got to the Great Hall, she had the sense that something was off. It was the way the Dark Arts enthusiasts looked at her. While they were eating, one of them came and clapped her on the back. "Little Mudblood must mean a lot to Potter." And then he was gone.

What the hell did that mean?

And _where_ was James?

Sirius kept shooting her a funny look from down the table, a mix between pity and frustration. After a few minutes of it, she sighed and slid down so she was across from him. "Have you seen James?" she asked lightly.

He still had that look. "He's going to _kill_ me for telling you...but you were bound to find out eventually." He glanced around to make sure no one was listening in, but everyone seemed to be caught up in the festivities. "You've noticed how they've quit using the M-word around you, right?"

She nodded. "Well, yeah. Until tonight, I mean."

"Did you wonder why that was?"

Another nod.

"He's crazy about you, Lily. And he hates seeing you get upset, and he knows it bugs you at least a little when they call you that, so don't bother denying it. So he started practicing and got _really_ good at a few hexes. I mean, damn good at them. He put Flint in the Hospital Wing for about a week."

"While that's _fascinating, _what does it have to do with—"

"Do you _ever_ let someone finish a story?" His eyes held a slight smile. "And when he was sure he'd mastered some of 'em, he started using them. If he heard someone call you _that word,_ he'd hex them. Later, of course. Never in front of you. Usually not enough for damage that needed to be seen about. But he did it _every time._ Got to the point where they were scared of him." Sirius chuckled. "Can you imagine? Those big, hulking trolls, afraid of skinny James Potter? But he made the message clear: pick on Lily Evans and get your ass kicked."

She tried not to show it, but she was touched. That was one of the nicest things anyone had ever done for her. Stupid and just this side of weird, but nice nonetheless.

"He's in our dormitory right now. I guess one of them finally fought back... We won't be up there for a while. If, y'know, you need to talk to him or something."

Lily leaned across the table, her hair almost grazing through the pumpkin juice, and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you!" And then she darted from the Great Hall, sprinted all the way up to the Common Room. Winded, she said the password and sped through the door and up the spiral staircase.

Despite her speed, she managed to slow down at the door and thought it best to knock. Which she did. No answer. She tried again. "James, I know you're in there. Can I talk to you for a second?"

There was an audible sigh, a few footsteps, and the door was opening.

"I could've opened it myself," she muttered. And then she caught sight of him. "What...what _happened?_" He seemed to have a broken nose, two black eyes, a couple other bruises on his face, and he must have had some cuts somewhere, because his robes were spattered with blood.

"Three angry Slytherins and a slimy Snape," he replied, trying and failing to smile. He sat on his bed and shoved some books to the floor. "I've been trying to figure out how to fix it myself," he added as an explanation, looking embarrassed. "Didn't want you to see me looking like this..."

"I've seen worse." She took a seat next to him, getting out her wand. "I'll fix these up for you if you tell me what happened. And please don't lie, because Sirius already told me what you've been doing."

James cringed. "You're not mad, are you?"

"Not at you, no. I'm mad at whoever did this to you, and I'm also a little mad that there's a war going on, but not at you."

"Fine. Erm...there's some cuts under my shirt..." He suddenly wasn't the confident person he acted like. He was shy and awkward at the idea of partially undressing in front of a girl he liked.

"You're bloody and bruised and you're worried about me seeing you without a shirt?" She rolled her eyes. "C'mon, let me see."

Face bright red, he took off his robe, wincing slightly at having to move so much. His fingers were shaking as he reached for the buttons on his shirt. Growing impatient, Lily swatted his hand away. "It'll take you all night at this rate." She made quick work, and gaped at what she saw. "Okay, tell me what happened and who did _this_!" She pointed to all the cuts on his chest before picking up her wand and starting the healing process.

"Well, since Sirius seems to have forgotten where his true loyalty lies, you know what I've been doing. I reckon they've had enough of not being able to bully anyone —namely you—so four of them cornered me. Three of them, big brutes, wouldn't recommend getting on their bad side, they did this to my face. I'm still dashing, so they didn't do too much harm." He tried to throw a joke in to lighten up. And then Sniv—Snape—no, you know what, Snivellus...he joined in with that _spell_ he created. And that's what happened here." He made a vague gesture towards what were now faint scars tattooing his chest.

Lily poked at one of them. "These should be gone within about a week." She started on his face. "He...my god, if his _mother_ knew what he... I'm sorry."

He repeated her words from over a year ago. "What do _you_ have to be sorry for?"

"That Snape did that to you. That they broke your nose. That it's about to hurt like hell for a second."

Right on cue, James yelped in pain.

She put her wand away, finished with the job. "That you're enough of an idiot to try to take on everyone who ever tries to pick on me." Her voice wasn't mean; no, she definitely said it endearingly, like him being an idiot was the best thing in the world.

"I'm crazy about you, Lily Evans."

"So Sirius said."

"Does he tell you _everything_ now?!" He laughed but still looked so down and depressed. "I really am, though. I know it was stupid, but I just—"

Lily put a finger to his lips. "Do you remember what you said to me, back in fifth year, right before I fixed your face?"

"Sort of..."

"Well, listen to me. I should have told you this ages ago, but you're handsome and smart and once I got to know you, I found out that you're one of the sweetest people I have _ever_ met. I can't imagine anyone else doing anything like this for me. I'd say you're worth ten of _them_, but I can't."

"Why's that?"

Her lips turned upward into a grin. "Ten times zero is still zero."

He rolled his eyes at her. That was one of the Muggle phrases he knew she loved the most. "What did you mean earlier, _I've seen worse?_"

"I mean... so what if your face was messed up for a few minutes? That's not bad, because you were fighting for the right reasons. But when I look at the people on the other side, the ones I _know_ people like us will be fighting against when we get out of here, it's ugly. That's what's worse. Because even if they don't have bruises on their faces yet, they're the worst kind of people I've seen. And," she continued quietly. "You're the best kind."

"Did I mention that I am absolutely _crazy_ about you?"

She started to lean forward and whispered in his ear, "Do you wanna know a secret?"

He nodded, but she pulled back just enough so that she could press her lips against his. He momentarily froze in shock, but recovered quickly and didn't think she noticed. James couldn't believe it. It was everything he'd wanted for _years._ He was kissing Lily Evans—and she wasn't under the influence of a potion or anything!—and she was bloody _good_ at it, her soft lips moving perfectly with his.

But still, being the guy he was, he stopped after just a minute. "So what's that secret?"

"I'm a little bit crazy about you too, James Potter."

* * *

Lily would hear the word Mudblood countless times during the remainder of her life. But she knew that as long as she had James by her side, words could _never_ hurt her.

* * *

(Obligatory statement about not being JK, not owning the characters, et cetera.) If you read this, I seriously love you and hope you find money on the street or something.


End file.
